“I’m pretty sure you’re Prince Creep—well on your way to becoming King Creep!” I snapped, folding my arms over my chest. “You and Satan Senior probably get your rocks off on meddling with the lives of little kids!”

His expression darkened, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, but I cut him off.

“Those girls are really sick, Satan Junior! They’re being pumped full of all sorts of poisons to try and kill off the cancer in their little bodies. They haven’t been out of the hospital for months, and I can’t take Luci-Fur to visit them, even though they’re begging, because she might compromise⁠—”

I shoved what was left of the apple into my mouth, taking a monster bite. What sort of verbal vomit was that? The last thing I wanted was to give him details about the girls! What on earth had possessed me?

I glared at him suspiciously. That shell-shocked look on his face was all for show, I was certain. “Did you just possess me? Are you trying to get me to give you ammunition for your little game with my soul? Is that what this visit is all about?”

He blinked as if he hadn’t heard me. “They want a visit from Lucifer?” His voice was thin.

And I realised his confusion. “Not Lucifer—although I’m sure you’re on brilliant terms with him … are you him? Actually, don’t answer that, I have no interest in your family history. No, I meant my ferret, Luci-Fur.”

As if on cue, her frantic, excited dooking echoed from the laundry room.

“You named your ferret after⁠—”

“Shoosh!” I hissed, not bothering to check whether he complied. I raced out of the kitchen and across the hall.

“What the Hell?” I gasped, my hand flying to my heart.

Three sets of beady ferret eyes turned to me in eerie unison. Luci’s pink ones, from inside her cage, and two sets of black ones, belonging to two jet black ferrets. They were standing on my washing machine, looking guilty.

I’d never seen a ferret look guilty before. And there was an odd, reddish ring around the edges of their eyes.

“Ah,” his deep, posh voice rumbled in my ear, startling me enough that I staggered back a step and collided with his rock-solid chest. “It seems my wayward Hounds have made a new friend.”

I turned, bumping my nose against his sternum. Solid … and tall … and he smelled of … campfire and cloves.

“Hounds? Those aren’t hounds! They’re … malevolent mustelids!” I snapped, taking a step backwards.

“They’re shapeshifters,” he explained, an amused gleam lighting his eyes. “But their true form is the Hound form that you saw when you visited me earlier.”

“When I visited you …” I snorted. “When you sucked me into your magic hole, more like it!”

Satan Junior cleared his throat, those two spots of pink appearing on his cheekbones again.